Zeppless
by melodrome
Summary: The year is 2010. Sunnydale's been underground for seven years. The only one left who remembers the town is Alexander Harris, a corporate success story who lives in his memory. This is his life in a nutshell. [On hiatus.]
1. 2010: Another Sleepless Night

_A/N: This is different from some of my other stuff, if you're familiar with it. It's pretty extra-special angsty. The intro isn't great, but I promise, it gets better.  
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_All reviews are very welcome.__**  
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* * *

_**2010**_

  


"Oh my God, Pam."

"What?"

"Come here."

"I'm in the middle of steaming milk."

"Forget it. Come here."

A grin spread across Pam's face as she turned off the steamer, put the milk on the counter and scurried over to where Mary was looking out the one-way glass. They both suppressed wild giggles at the two guys walking through the night.

"They just came out of the gym."

"Obviously."

"I like the dark-haired one."

"Really? His buddy's hotter."

"Don't even say that."

"Why not? It's true."

"You have the weirdest taste."

"Whatever. Like yours is any better."

"Oh shit they're coming in."

"I'm so taking orders."

"Whatever. You were in the middle of steaming milk."

"And you've been on till forever."

"I don't think so." They scrambled to get to the till first only to find that Kate, who had been rolling her eyes throughout the entire conversation, was already there. The blokes in question walked in.

"Hi, welcome to Java Jive," Kate said with a smug look on her face.

"Yeah, what do you have in the way of specialty drinks?" the dark-haired one asked.

"All our coffees are right there on the menu," she said, pointing to the wall behind her.

The guys glanced at each other. The dark haired one muttered to the other one. Kate thought she heard, "are you still hungry?" but she assumed she was hallucinating since what followed didn't make sense in context. The lighter haired one considered this for a moment, and then smiled at Kate and nodded.

"I think we're looking for some…thing a little hotter," the dark-haired one said. "If you don't mind stepping aside, I think I'd like to talk to one of your co-workers." He looked behind Kate and smiled at Mary, who had busied herself with pretending to wash dishes. Kate raised her eyebrows and rose her hands defensively, stepping aside and letting a very smiley Mary at the till. She smiled in what she hoped was a seductive manner.

"Are you ready to order, or do you need a few more minutes?"

He smiled back in a similar manner. "I think I'd just like a skim mocha with whip."

"Was that… for here?" she asked.

He glanced at his buddy knowingly. "Yeah, I think so."

"Okay. If you want to just have a seat I can bring that out for you when it's ready."

He grinned. "Sounds great. Thanks." He wandered over to a table. His blonde buddy raised his eyebrows at Pam. Kate took the hint and took the completed latté to one of Pam's tables to let the older girl take the till.

"What can I get for you?"

"A date."

She smiled. "That could be arranged."

"Great. Busy tonight?"

"Not at all."

"What about your friend there?"

"Hey, Mary, got any plans tonight?" Pam asked the beaming blonde as she came back from delivering the mocha to the dark haired fellow.

"I've got a date with him, actually," she grinned, hitching a thumb over her shoulder.

"That works out nicely," said his buddy with a smile. "Why don't we make it double? What time do you lovely ladies get off work?"

Mary and Pam glanced at one another. "Hey Kate, when's Laura coming in?"

"Ten minutes. Why?"

"Do you mind if we take off early?"

"Whatever."

"Great." Pam grinned. "Does that work for you guys?"

"Absolutely," said the lighter haired bloke. He had a bit of an accent, she noticed. That only helped his perpetual hotness. Mary and Pam untied their aprons as another fairly attractive man with dark hair entered the café. A glance back at Kate showed that she was busy with making drinks for her tables. Pam sighed and returned to the till, telling her date she'd only be a moment.

The third guy's dark eyes were calming. He glanced at Mary's date interestedly once or twice. Pam figured he was thinking the same thing about him as she was, and raised her eyebrows judgmentally as she asked him for his order.

"Regular coffee to go," he said shortly, giving her two dollars and putting his change in the tips jar. He now glanced at the light haired guy and sat down to wait for his coffee. His coffee came and he thanked Pam, leaving the shop.

Pam shed her apron and grabbed her handbag. "We're off, Kate. See you tomorrow."

"Yep," came the voice from the back. Both girls ignored the obvious annoyance in her voice. They walked out with their respective dates into the night.

The guys claimed their trucks were parked in the back alley. The girls felt hands around their wrists as they were pinned against the wall, side by side.

"What do you look for in a man, Mary?" the dark haired one asked. She looked deep into his eyes and realized he was looking for a one-night stand. She had no problems with that. She smiled and shifted slightly under his weight.

"Dark hair, dark eyes, a good smile and good stamina."

"Then it would seem that I'm your man."

"It would seem so." She leant forward and kissed him hard, oblivious to the nervous tone Pam's voice had taken. Suddenly the weight against her was lifted and she fell to the ground. Pam was clutching her neck and looking horrified.

The second dark haired guy who had ordered the coffee to go had pulled both guys off them at once. He was now fighting them both skillfully; they'd all apparently had extensive training in the martial arts. He had a moment while the guys regrouped and he turned to the girls. "Run," he said simply.

"Screw that. You're beating up my date!" Mary complained.

"They're not your dates," he responded quietly as they both rushed him at the same time. He took a step back at let them attack each other instead. "Look at their faces. Look at your friend. Then run."

Mary glanced at Pam and saw the blood seeping through her fingers as she continued to clutch her neck. She looked at her "date" and saw that he was no longer the gorgeous guy she'd thought he was; he looked hideous now with an accentuated forehead and wild yellow eyes. Her eyes widened as she grabbed Pam's arm and the two of them ran away.

He watched them go. The vamps regrouped. Making sure no one was watching, he flipped a stake out of his sleeve and plunged it through their hearts easily, one by one. He wiped the ashes off his shirt and stepped out of the alley. He picked his coffee cup off the patio table outside and—

"Who… what were they?" came a timid voice from behind him. It was a significantly paler Pam. Her friend was nowhere in sight.

He sighed heavily and stared at the pavement for a second. He blinked hard a few times. He seemed tired. Finally—"Don't worry about them. They won't bother you again. Are you… okay? Do you need a ride to the hospital or—"

"No. No, I'll be okay. I just… I…"

"Don't worry. Just be more careful who you surround yourself with. Lots of creeps out there." He turned and walked away.

"I just want to know who you are," she called after him.

"No you don't," he said under his breath. He didn't turn back as he disappeared into the night.

* * *

He unlocked the many locks on his apartment door and walked lethargically in. He threw his keys in the key dish and locked up again methodically. He ran his hands over his face, marveling again at his existence. He blinked hard a bunch more and ignored the dull pain behind his left eye. Tired as he was, he knew he wouldn't be able to sleep until the sun came up anyway, so he turned on the television and flipped through infomercials until he found one he didn't remember seeing before. As usual, though, he couldn't concentrate.

America had gotten tiresome. He'd left for a while, but he had to come back eventually. They all had, eventually. And they'd all met up one last time. For some reason, they'd all felt that, yet again, the end was perilously near.

One by one, they'd all died eventually. It had been an epic battle. None of them had been immortal, after all. Not really. He relived it every night, and every night he marveled at how the hell he'd survived.

How the hell he'd survived. What a convenient way of wording things.

Hours passed. He remembered. The infomercial about knives dissolved into the early morning news, and he realized that the sun was up. Alexander Harris shut off his television, turned off his cell phone, and turned in for a good four or five hours of tossing and turning.


	2. 2003: Another Goodbye

_2003_

"So… I guess you're off," Willow said sadly.

"So are you," Xander grinned. He, too, was sad about this occasion, but he was happy for all of them. Except Buffy. She seemed far too into this "Immortal" character. But he wouldn't ever say so.

"I guess, but… it's not the same kind of off. You're going to _Africa_. That's just so… I mean, it's great; you know how happy I am for you, but… we've lived in the same town all our lives, you and I, and…" her voice trailed into tears. Xander felt his one remaining eye tearing up as well.

"Oh, Will," he said affectionately, pulling her into a hug. Buffy and Dawn busied themselves with talking to Giles about his big plans once he returned to Britain for the final time, not wanting to be involved in a moment between lifelong friends.

"You… you write to me, okay? All the time. I want a weekly letter from African Xander."

"As frequently as the post goes, a letter to you will be among it. Unless it goes every day. I think that would be just a little excessive. And you write me, too! All of you," he amended, turning to the others. "I want to hear all about Europe and Asia and South America and every continent I'm not in. I mean, you can probably tell me about that continent, too, if you want to, but I think I'll get the picture."

Dawn whined in the back of her throat and threw her arms around Xander. He smiled and hugged her back. "You keep me posted on Buffy and this Immortal guy, okay?" he whispered in her ear. She laughed through her tears, though she knew he wasn't joking.

"You take care, okay? No crazy Africa diseases for you. Stay away from the mosquitoes, I hear they have the West Nile gene. And, and don't take candy from strangers," Dawn advised. Mostly she wanted to keep talking to see if everyone would stay. Or… no. She wasn't staying either. None of them were. But she wanted everyone to come to Rome.

Kennedy came back from the muffin shop she'd spotted on their way into the airport. Willow found it endlessly amusing that Kennedy liked muffins so much. She didn't ask why. She figured it was one of those things she probably would either find out about eventually, or didn't want to know about in the first place. "Our flight's leaving in twenty minutes, babe. We'd better get to the gate."

Willow nodded. She smiled like the brave little toaster she'd always been and oofed enthusiastically as the again crying Dawn attacked her. "And you! No Brazilian curses. Beware of flying soccer balls, and, and, look both ways before you cross the street. I hear pedestrians have no right of way there."

Willow grinned. "We'll stay in touch, Dawnie. We won't even have to write each other because we'll talk so often."

"Promise?"

"Of course, sweetie." Willow blinked hard as Dawn went off to attack Giles. Buffy smiled tiredly at Willow and Xander as they all stood around.

"I can't believe…" Buffy started. She didn't have to say anything more, which was fortunate, because she found she couldn't. They remembered the first time Buffy met them; Xander's first line to Buffy being, "can I have you?" and finding a stake in her bag; Willow's unbelievably different geekiness and how adorable it seemed in retrospect. Seven years later, and they'd all be in different continents within a few hours. It seemed so monumental. Buffy shook her head eventually and managed to hug both Xander and Willow at once. There they remained for a while, until a pointed clearing of the throat from Kennedy reminded Willow that they had basically no time.

Willow hugged Giles, and then Xander again. She was crying profusely by the time Kennedy managed to pull her away. Everyone cried back at her, especially Andrew when he scurried up moments later and yelled to her retreating back that she was truly an inspiration to all of them.

"Damn," Buffy whispered to Xander. "I was so wishing he'd get lost in the airport somewhere."

Soon the flight to Rome was leaving; a similar tearful goodbye, especially from Giles, followed Buffy and Dawn (and Andrew, who said something to Xander in Clingon before he left. Xander had pretended not to understand a word, but he knew Andrew said something about Superman. Xander was disgusted with himself for getting the gist). Suddenly it was just Xander and Giles.

Giles looked old. Xander knew he had considered retirement, but he'd finally decided that renewing the council would be the best course of action for himself and the Slayers now worldwide. He may have only been in his early fifties, but he'd had a full life. Xander knew more about Giles than even Buffy did. From his rebellious early twenties to his calm and settled thirties, Xander fancied himself somewhat an expert on Giles' life.

Just after Anya had died, Giles had sat down with Xander in the bus. He didn't say anything for a long while; it seemed he was contemplating whether or not to indeed say anything. Finally, he took a deep breath and began: "I have loved two women in my entire life. One of them was Jenny. The other, I don't believe I've ever mentioned to you… or anyone, I suppose.

"Her name was Morgan. She was… gorgeous, to say the least, but that didn't begin to explain the kind of person she was. We met at the Watcher's council. We hit it off immediately and married only a year after we'd met.

"She… I… we… uh. We lived three glorious years together. One day she told me she was pregnant. With twins, no less. A week later she was… killed. On the job. By a vampire."

"Giles," Xander had whispered. He hadn't known what to say.

"I buried her, finished my training, and came to Sunnydale. Jenny reminded me of her in some ways. They were both incredibly full of life. They were both…" Giles had trailed off and cleared his throat. "What I mean to say, Xander, is that I understand your heartbreak. You're not going to get over it. Not tomorrow, not a year from now, not twenty. You'll always mourn for Anya because you loved her as you did.

"You had a monumental impact on her life, Xander. You made her human. You made her a compassionate person. She died saving a life. Take your time; mourn as you will. It will get easier, but eventually it stops becoming easier and becomes something you have to live with. You'll someday fall in love again. But she'll likely remind you of Anya. And that's why you'll love her so."

Something had changed between Xander and Giles that day. Xander had stopped making jokes when Giles was around because he no longer felt the need to. They understood each other now. Giles would never ask how Xander was, and he would be the only one who wouldn't. Xander felt comfortable in Giles' presence.

But now, Giles asked. "How are you, Xander?"

"I'm okay."

"Are you?"

"Yeah. I am."

Giles believed him, and felt a sort of pride. "Good."

In hindsight, that was when Xander realized that Giles knew what was going to happen.

An announcement over the P. A. mentioned that the flight to South Africa was leaving. Xander smiled unconsciously. Part of him wanted Anya with him on the plane, but he'd also chosen the one place he knew she'd hate. It was time for a drastic change. He sighed and turned to Giles.

"So this is it."

"So it is." They hugged and Xander grabbed his luggage. Even then Xander felt something nagging at the back of his mind. He opened his mouth to say something, closed it again, and tried once more.

"Take care, okay? I mean… that's been going around today, but I really mean it. Take care."

Giles smiled. "To you as well, Xander. Africa can be… treacherous, at the best of times. Keep in touch with Willow if no one else. I imagine she'll come and find you if you don't."

Xander grinned. "That's my Will. Thanks, Giles," he said sincerely.

"What for?" Giles asked, mystified.

"'What for?' he asks!" Xander proclaimed. "For teaching me what's what. How to fight demons, both in the flesh and in the mind. For being a proper parent, not only to Buffy, but to all of us."

Giles didn't say anything. Xander smiled. "And really—take care." With that, he turned and walked toward the plane. Giles stood there for a while, and then turned and walked away.

_2010_

"Good morning, mumbleXander."

He whipped around with fear and anger in his eyes. "What did you say?"

She recoiled ever so slightly. There was something in those eyes Yvette loved and hated. This was a hate moment. "I just greeted you good morning."

"But… what did you call me?"

"Alexander?"

Xander sighed relief but had to make sure. "Alexander. With the prefix."

"…Don't you mean the suffix?"

"Nevermind." He stalked through the office and ignored his secretary's stammers that there had been calls for him. He slammed the door in his face and sat down heavily at his desk, face in his hands.

After his two years in Africa, he'd gone to College. It had seemed like time. He took the courses he needed to catch up, and then pursued an ambition he didn't know he'd had. Last year he graduated with a degree in business. Carpentry had seemed dull to him, especially as time wound down. Moving out of Sunnydale changed him. Going to Africa changed him. Coming back changed him. Their reunion changed him. Losing everything changed him. Now he had no friends, no family… nothing, really, but a secretary that mooned after him, a dispassionate passion for the fight, and a soul that dissolved a little more with each passing day.

At least he was successful.

At least his heart was still beating.

"Alex?"

He sat up straight. "Yes, Yvette."

"I… I have some messages for you… but I figured you'd rather I put them aside once I received this." She held up an envelope.

"What's in it?"

"It's a letter."

"Who from?"

"I know you told me never to pry into your past, but…"

"Get rid of it."

"What?"

"I don't care what you do with it. Rip it up, put in through the shredder, set it on fire… I don't care. Don't read it, just destroy it."

Yvette opened her mouth to argue, but she noticed that Alex wouldn't look her in the eye. She'd asked him about his life once, and she'd quickly learned never to do it again. Sullenly, she agreed to destroy it and backed out of the room.

She made sure he was busy with moping before pulling out her key and opening the tiny top drawer in her desk. She placed the letter delicately inside and covered it with other Sunnydale mail he'd received and she'd never mentioned. She figured he'd want to look at them someday. Someday when it was less painful, whatever _it_ was.

She shut the drawer and returned to her work, wondering dully who this Summers must have been.


	3. 2004: Another Selfish Act

_2004_

"Thank the Goddesses," Willow muttered under her breath with the mail clutched in her hand. A letter from Xander had finally come. It had been months, almost a year, without any word. Willow had tried to project herself to where he was several times, but her magic backfired and she always ended up in the Atlantic Ocean. Kennedy was no particular help when she told her he might have drowned and did she try the bottom of the ocean where she always appeared? Willow realized that Kennedy was just mocking her worry and was trying to lighten the mood, but that mostly just made Willow more worried and a little mad at Kennedy.

She tore open the envelope and pulled it out. It was definitely Xander's writing, but it seemed more precise than usual.

_Willow_, it read,

_I have a stack of letters that are begging to be sent. I wrote you every week, just like I promised, but a situation I couldn't handle came up and… God, no amount of explanation could sum up what's happened in the past few months. The letters would take up a parcel, so I decided just to write a new one and put it all very bluntly._

_The Slayers are so many. I've been to maybe a dozen countries and met almost a thousand Slayers. I can't count them anymore. I don't know who's who. I can remember all the ones that have died, but none of the ones who are alive. Is that right?_

_You hear about the high death rates in Africa, but they aren't completely attributed to starvation or disease. A lot of people are dying because of demon attack. They thrive on the warm climate and the weaker people. I try to fight them but they're stronger here. I'm stronger than I ever have been but that doesn't make a difference. Slayers die as quickly as they crop up. I can't meet all of them._

_I'm finally sending this to you from an address in England. I ended up in hospital for a long time and Buffy came down to take me from Africa. I seem to have some… mental block or something. I can't convince myself to get out of bed. Evil just seems too powerful. I can't beat it. So here I am, sitting in bed and not healing very quickly._

_I'll get right to it. The demon(s) that conked me out were wicked apocalypsey, only apparently they were everywhere. Giles… got into it with a few and he's not… doing too well. He's in hospital now. Buffy's been trying to contact you, but you haven't written back to any of her letters, none of her phone calls have gone through… I'm terrified for you, Will. I understand now what everyone else was feeling when I was out of contact for so long. _

_Buffy's on a mission. The apocalypse demons are too many. She's got a theory as to where they came from, but she seems too angry and sad to say anything about it. She wants us all here, in England, for a Scooby meeting one last time. She's reluctant to add the "one last time" part, but I'm not. _

_Please be okay, Willow. Please come up._

_Love,  
Xander_

By the end of the letter, the tears were streaming down her face. She'd thought a letter from Xander would have made her feel better, but it instead made her feel worse. He sounded more eloquent, but not at all like Xander anymore. She got up with resolve and tore into the room she and Kennedy shared, taking out a suitcase and throwing clothes into it. Kennedy, who had been having a nap, woke up, took one look at Willow's face, and got up to give her girlfriend a hug. Willow fought it but Kennedy persisted, sitting down on the bed with Willow when she finally dissolved in her arms.

"Giles is sick," Willow finally whispered when the sobs had tapered off. "Giles is sick and Xander's unhappy and those demons you've been fighting are everywhere. Africa, England, Rome, everywhere. Apparently they're of the apocalypse variety. I have to go to England."

"When do we leave?"

Willow hesitated. "Um…"

Kennedy sat up and away from Willow. "You don't want me to go, do you?"

"I… it's not that, I just thought you'd want to stay here to keep the demons under control—"

Kennedy sighed. "No, it's okay. I get it. I'm not really a part of your group. I knew this would happen." She sullenly got up and dug through the closet, coming up with a whole bunch of letters from Buffy and Dawn. "They were only addressed to you. No 'Willow and Kennedy', just Willow Rosenberg. So I didn't open them."

Willow frowned and took the envelopes. They were postmarked as far back as eight months. "You hid these from me?"

"And changed our phone number."

Willow's face contorted through a dozen emotions before she settled on anger. "Why would you do that?"

"I just wanted it to be us. You and me, Willow. I love you—"

Willow scoffed angrily. "Yeah, it shows."

"No, I do, and that's why I did this. I want to keep you. I knew that if you were always dashing off to save Giles or Xander or your beloved Buffy—"

"I don't feel that way about Buffy!"

"Right. Okay." Kennedy shook her head as her eyes teared up. "Our relationship has been strained since Sunnydale sunk into the ground. It's been over a year and Sunnydale is still all you can talk about it. After five months I realized you weren't going to let go unless I stepped in."

"You saw what kind of pain I was in. I've been stressing about everyone, especially Xander, for months."

"And if Xander had sent you anything I would have given it to you."

"But with Buffy it's a different story."

"I can't live up to Buffy. I'm _a_ Slayer but I'm not _the_ Slayer."

"God, shut up. You had no right. Don't turn around and pin this on me."

"I'm not, Willow."

"You are, Kennedy. I have no patience for this. Or for you. Anymore." The first tear fell onto the comforter. "Please leave the hut while I pack."

Kennedy reached out a hand. "Willow…"

Willow fiercely batted the hand out of her way and looked at Kennedy with literally glowing eyes. "I'm leaving in an hour and I'm not coming back. Leave, now."

Wanting to avoid a magickal explosion, Kennedy stormed out of the hut, leaving Willow to her tears and her angered packing.

---

"So that's the story," Willow whispered as fresh tears rolled down her face. She looked the pale and defeated Xander in the eye and tried to prevent herself from sobbing. "I don't… know what to do."

"I know what I'd do."

"Stay gone?"

"Stay gone." He sat up in bed and took Willow into his arms. She finally sobbed into his shoulder. He kissed her forehead affectionately and rocked her gently back and forth, not saying anything.

"I was so worried about you," she finally whispered into his flannel jammies.

"Back at you," he whispered back.

She sat up straight and looked Xander in the eye again. He looked tired but still sympathetic. One tear slid slowly down his right cheek and she caught it with her thumb. "What happened, Xander?"

Xander simply shook his head and laid back against the pillows. "Someday, Willow. Someday I'll tell you. Not today."

Willow nodded and took Xander's bigger hand into her dainty one. They both smiled a false smile at each other and just sat together in comfortable misery. Sometimes lifelong friends are the best kind to be miserable with.

---

_2010_

Another letter. Same return address, same handwriting. This one, like the dozen others before it, had "URGENT" scrawled on the back. Yvette unlocked the cabinet and went to put the letter in with the others, but stopped at the sight of two dozen letters staring back at her. They were all from the same person. They were obviously being sent for a reason. And, it occurred to her, she'd never actually told Alex who they were from. So she marched into the office with the latest letter and a glimmer of determination in her eye.

She stood directly in front of his desk and waited for him to look up. He didn't. He continued the paperwork, bent over the desk and not seeing much of anything except ink and page.

"What is it, Yvette?"

But at least he knew she was there.

She watched his mouth as he wrote. It moved with each word; she had always suspected that he had had dyslexia of some kind. Though she couldn't see them very well, she watched his eyes. They moved in perfect symmetry. He was a genius. He'd fabricated this company out of nothing and now he was… not rich, per se, but well off. That wasn't why she liked him. He was a mystery. He was so intelligent but he didn't show off. He never showed off. He was modest and kind and everything she looked for in a man but… he was so sad.

She took a breath and said it before she realized it.

"I'm in love with you."

His head snapped up just as quickly as she'd imagined it would. This was how she imagined it would happen every time. She'd march up to his desk and just say it and he'd grin and be happy instead of sad.

She never imagined she'd be holding a letter to his face with the name of another girl on it. It was the first and only thing he saw when he looked up.

_Dawn Summers_

He stared for a long time. Finally, his lips formed one word: "Shit."

That was it. That was all he had to say. He didn't snatch the letter out of her hand and tear it open; he didn't stand up and go "you're WHAT?"; he didn't throw her down on the desk and make wild love to her. He just sat at his stupid desk and stared at the goddamn name on the envelope.

"Shit," he said again. Then after a long time of more staring and Yvette's arm and dignity getting tired, he said, "destroy it."

She sighed and turned to leave the room. He said her name very quietly and she turned slowly around. His brown eyes were looking quite directly into hers. They were totally honest. She wasn't used to that. It sent chills down her spine. "Are you really?" he asked equally as quietly.

She took a deep breath and nodded slowly. "Yeah," she whispered.

A muscle twitched in his jaw and he looked down for a second before returning his gaze to her eyes. "Don't be."

She shrugged. "I can't really help it." She broke the honest gaze and returned to her desk. She put the letter on top of the others in the drawer.  



	4. 2004: Another Dead Man

_2004_

"He hasn't woken up," Buffy said quietly. She and Willow were standing outside Giles' hospital room. "I'd last spoken with him over the phone and we'd argued. Then he went and battled some of those apocalypse demons _by himself_."

"Oh Buffy, that doesn't sound like Giles. Are you sure they didn't find him when he was going to the store to get some orange juice or something?"

"Giles doesn't drink orange juice."

"You know what I mean."

Buffy sighed. "Yeah, you're right. I'm just angry with him for not being well. I want to give him a hug and say, 'thank you, Giles. Thank you for everything you've done for me over the last eight years', but I can't because he can't hear me."

"Yes he can," Willow said quietly. "Say it to him anyway."

"Are you… sure there's no way to go into his head and figure out what's going on there?"

"There is. I did it on you once. But that was extremely risky, and yours was self-induced. Plus you were the Slayer. Giles is just an aging guy who's in a coma. I might end up killing him. In fact, I'd almost certainly kill him. Besides, I'm not keen on meddling in magicks I'm not comfortable with right now."

"Because of Kennedy?"

"Well, for one. I'm not exactly the picture of stability at the moment. But the last time I did that was right before I went coo-coo for coco puffs. Just… tell him, Buff. Go in there and hold his hand and say everything you want to say because he might be able to hear you. And if you don't, and he doesn't pull through…" Willow stopped and shook her head. One tear rolled down her cheek.

Buffy nodded, but didn't move. She instead kept staring straight ahead. "Have they gotten back yet?" she asked for the third time of the day. Dawn, Andrew and Vi had gone to L.A. to see what Angel knew about the apocalypse demons. Buffy had a hunch they wouldn't find him. The BBC had almost round-the-clock speculations as to how Los Angeles had been somehow decimated a month earlier. The centre of the problems was reported to be, oddly enough, the location of the L.A. branch of Wolfram and Hart.

The President was crying terrorism. The environmentalists were crying global warming. The skeptics were crying government conspiracy.

Xander was crying all the time for no reason.

Buffy was crying because Giles was dying.

"Not yet," said Willow. "But they will. No one's more determined than Dawn."

"Will, if I'm right..."

"And if you're not, then we have a whole second base in another nation. Even if you are right, we might still have a whole second base in another nation. Buffy... you know Angel. Even when he was evil, he didn't seem the type to unleash hell on earth."

"Um, hello? Junior year? I sort of stabbed him through the chest because he was trying to unleash hell on earth."

Willow frowned. "Well, yeah, okay, but that time aside..."

"I just hate this, Will. I hate that Giles is sick, I hate that Xander's not himself, and I hate that I don't know why any of this is happening." Buffy put her forehead against the glass and let the tears fall. Willow put a hand on Buffy's shoulder in a consoling gesture. Buffy turned and gave her best friend a big hug. "I'm so glad you're here, Will," she whispered.

Willow smiled but didn't say anything. Xander watched from the end of the hall as Buffy took a deep breath, steeled herself, and walked into Giles' hospital room. "How's he doing?" Xander asked in a low voice. Willow turned and tried to put away her puppydog eyes that only came out when she knew something bad was going to happen.

"Not well," she whispered as Xander approached.

"How much time are they giving him?"

"A day, if he's lucky. They were j-just... too big. Too mean. Too apocalypsey." She attempted a weak smile as she leaned against Xander, who had actually managed to change into clothing other than pyjamas for the first time in weeks.

"Tenth apocalypse the charm, I guess," he said in a serious tone, though Willow knew he was trying to joke. "He survived a lot, Will. Maybe even some stuff we don't know about."

"But... he's Giles."

"I know," he whispered, wrapping her in his arms. "I know."

They stood that way for a while, watching Buffy hold Giles' hand and talk incessantly in the hopes that he could hear her. Finally Willow turned to face him. "Hey!" she proclaimed.

"What?" Xander asked, startled.

"You're here!"

"I know!" he said lightly, mocking her tone.

"You're dressed!"

"I know!" he said again.

She grinned and slapped him lightly on his chest. "Good for you!"

"Thanks," he said, amused. "I couldn't have done it without you," he added seriously.

"Willow!" came a voice from down the hall.

"Xander?!" came another, only slightly more masculine voice. "Caro mio! It's so good to see you out of bed at last." Andrew hugged Xander around the middle. Xander held his arms in the air, annoyed.

"Hey, Dawn," Willow said and gave Dawn a hug. Willow heavily resisted the temptation to call her Dawnie; she was eighteen now, and apparently was even running errands for the council. Dawnie was hardly Dawnie anymore at all.

"Hey Willow," Andrew added, after letting go of Xander. "Long time no see. I still you've got your red hair... that bodes well for the world... although it was kinda cool having a supervillain after me, kind of an adrenaline rush... made me feel like Peter Parker against Venom."

"That's enough out of you," Xander said.

"I wish we had time to talk, guys, but we've got a lot of things going here. Where's Buffy?" Dawn asked.

"In with Giles," Willow said and stepped aside to reveal the scene. Dawn's face fell.

"He's not improving, is he?"

Willow hesitated. "It's not really..."

"Willow, please stop sugar-coating things. I'm not a kid anymore," Dawn said straightforwardly.

"No, Dawn. He's not. If anything, the opposite."

Dawn nodded and looked at her feet for a moment. Xander stuck his hands in his pockets while Willow fiddled with her necklace.

"So, who wants to hear about what we found in L.A.?" Andrew asked peppily.

Everyone looked up as Buffy walked back through the door and closed it behind her. "Hey guys. Glad to see you safe," she said, dispirited but not false.

"It was touch and go for a while," Dawn admitted, giving her sister a hug. "You think the apocalypse demons are bad _here_? Try going to L.A. They're everywhere. It's like the cleaning crew came, liked what they saw, and spread."

"Cleaning crew?" asked Xander.

"Andrew?" Dawn prompted.

"A Wolfram & Hart-dispatched team of demons to clean up any sticky situation that isn't in accordance with the Senior Partners' overall plan," Andrew provided seriously, and it became suddenly evident why he was in such a high position within the council.

"Oh God. Did you find Angel?" Buffy asked, turning pale.

Dawn closed her eyes sympathetically and shook her head. "Sorry, Buffy. It was hard to find anyone in that town. We checked near the Hyperion Hotel where Angel's investigation agency was headed for a while... I guess the coroner never checked behind the alley there on his search for carnage. There was a body under a dragon carcass. It looked like it had been there for a couple of months."

"Victim was a black male, between twenty and thirty years of age, with old bone damage to the bones in his hands and wear in his shoulders. Probably a fighter of some kind. He's being sent to the council's lab for identification, but it might well be Charles Gunn, who was known to be by Angel's side in the fight against evil," Andrew said, and grinned as Willow and Xander regarded him with shock.

"The fight _against_ evil?" Buffy clarified. "So he didn't do this?"

"Oh, he did," Dawn continued, "but not on purpose. Whatever his action was, it must have been pretty seriously in the name of good for the Senior Partners to make such a fuss."

Buffy closed her eyes. "Guess we screwed up on that count, huh guys?"

"Come on, Buff. From our perspective, it really did look like Angel was joining the bad-guy team," Xander put in. "It's not our fault."

"If we'd helped them, Buffy, our force would have been decimated," Dawn assured.

"So what now?" Buffy asked. "If Angel, Lorne and Burkle are all missing, and Wesley, Gunn, and Cordelia are all proven to be dead... who do we find out how to effectively exterminate these demons?"

"Might be able to help you on that count, love," came a husky voice from behind her. She turned on her heel to face an incredibly battered, but somehow alive, Spike.

---

_2010_

Alex was on the intercom. "Yvette."

"Yes?" she asked, trying not to sound as though she'd just woken up.

"Could you get me a cup of coffee?"

"Sure. The usual?"

"Please. Get one for yourself while you're at it."

Yvette smiled groggily. Somehow, he always knew. She grabbed a few dollars out of his jacket hung by the door (which she was perfectly allowed to do; he'd insisted on it on her first day when he'd sent her out for coffee. He always paid, as long as she went to get it. It was their deal) and headed toward the elevator.

A woman with long brown hair nearly knocked Yvette over as she exited the elevator in the lobby. "Oh, geez, I'm sorry," the woman said.

"Oh, no problem," Yvette said. "Definitely woke me up, anyway. Maybe I don't need that coffee as much as my boss thinks I do anymore."

"Oh, do you work here?"

"Yeah. I'm Mr. Harris' secretary."

The woman got a funny look on her face. "Xander Harris?"

"Alex Harris, yeah."

"Hmm." The woman spaced out for a second before shaking her head violently and turning back to Yvette. "Can you direct me to his office, please?"

"Sure. Just take the elevator to the third floor. Go past the desk outside the door, since I'm not there; just knock before you go in. I'll call him now to let him know you're coming," Yvette said, whipping out her cell phone.

"Uh, no, that won't be necessary," the woman said, apparently changing her mind and creeping toward the door that Yvette was standing by. "Thank you. Sorry again about bumping into you." She pushed open the glass doors of Harris Corp. and rushed down the street.

"Hey, wait!" Yvette called, but the woman was going in the wrong direction; the coffee shop was the other way. Frowning, she set off on her quest for caffeine, and promptly forgot about the strange lady. 


	5. 2004: Another Visit from the PTB

_2004_

"Thanks, love," Spike said through puffy lips. He was sitting wrapped in a blanket on an armchair in Giles' house in the country, where they were all staying while Giles was in hospital. Buffy had just handed him a mug of blood, fresh from the microwave. "So I suppose you've got a lot of questions about how I'm alive after Sunnydale."

"No, I knew you were alive," she said in what she hoped was a nonchalant tone and sat down across from Spike. Xander, Willow, Dawn, Andrew, and a couple of Slayers sat in various locations throughout the room, all eager to listen.

"You... what? Since when?" Spike asked indignantly. His grand entrance didn't feel as dramatic to himself anymore.

"Since a few months ago," she said non-committally. Spike rolled his eyes and looked over to Andrew, who scrunched up his face and moved a hand unconsciously to his left shoulder.

"I'm sorry! She hits hard," he said in his defence.

"You don't have a right to be angry with him, Spike. I do, with you, and I am, but there are more important things to worry about right now. What I'm interested in is how you're alive after L.A."

Spike took a deep drink of blood before starting his explanation. "Angel and company took over Wolfram and Hart because the great gits thought they could change the system from the inside. With the plan they had, it was never going to happen; the first thing Charlie Boy did--"

"That's Charles Gunn?" Buffy interrupted.

"Yeah, that'd be him." Dawn whipped out her notebook and started scribbling furiously as Spike kept talking. "He didn't make it out, huh?"

Buffy looked at the floor, as did everyone else except Andrew, who answered Spike's question. "We're... still waiting for confirmation, but we did find a body in the alley behind the Hyperion Hotel in L.A."

Spike sighed and nodded. "I didn't figure. He wasn't looking so hot when the big finish got underway. Anyway, the first thing Gunn did was accept an offer from the company to put a bunch of legal hogwash in his head. That's not the way to overthrow the opposition. He and the others all settled in, made themselves at home. I did too, after a fashion. The only one who didn't was Angel. He knew he was going the wrong way about doing good. Finally he realized that he was being manipulated by the big brains behind Wolfram and Hart whether he wanted to be or not, and decided to take a stand. After Fred's death--" Willow clapped a hand to her mouth in shock.

"That's Winnifred Burkle?" Dawn interrupted this time.

"Yes, damnit. Let me finish, will you?"

"How did she die?"

Spike sighed in resignation. "Demon takeover. Well, more like Old One takeover. Something old and creepy made its presence known by infecting Fred and taking over her body. Called itself Illyria. No sign of her in L.A., was there?"

"We... don't know. We were looking for Ms. Burkle. We didn't know about anything called... Ellora," Dawn admitted.

"Illyria," Spike corrected. "No matter. She's not very conducive to new people; might have punched you through a wall even if you did find her. Anyway, Illyria took Fred over, and suddenly Angel had this new weapon on his hands. Fred needed to be avenged, and Illyria was willing to help after her attempt to end the world failed. Angel joined the Black Thorn--"

"No!" Andrew exclaimed in disbelief.

"For God's sake, can I finish a sentence here?"

"The Black Thorn is such an elite society," Andrew gushed. "He must have committed one heck of a lot of evil for the sake of this one final gesture."

"Yeah, well, we all thought he'd gone round the Evil bend again too, so we planned a mutiny. Then it turns out that he had a plan to kill every member of the Black Thorn, and undo some of his actions at the same time. We agreed to help. We succeeded, Wolfram and Hart went kaboom, and the demon army came streaming in."

"Who was involved in this?" Dawn asked, now clearly in charge of the inquiry.

"Wesley, Gunn, Illyria, Lorne, myself, and of course the Big Man himself."

"Lorne. What happened to him?"

"I overheard him telling Angel that he wasn't the fighting type, and I have to agree. Greenjeans agreed to get rid of Doyle... Lindsey, damnit, his name was Lindsey... but then he was out. He didn't show up for the final shabang. I assume he got away clean."

"And Angel?"

"Died in the effort." He pretended not to notice as Buffy bowed her head and covered her face with her hands. "I don't have a lot of respect for the great ponce, but he executed a good plan in the end. Took down a dragon single-handedly, too. Got to give a man props for that."

"How did you get away?" Dawn asked, though somewhat shakily, after a moment.

"Stormed through the Hotel, but got knocked unconscious during battle. When I woke up hours later, most of the demons had cleared out and spread to other areas."

"Why didn't they kill you?"

"Uh..." Spike looked around uncomfortably. "I don't reckon they could find me."

Dawn frowned. "Why not?"

"I, uh... got knocked down a laundry chute."

"That's how you fell unconscious?"

"If you must know, yes," Spike said irritably.

Dawn suppressed a giggle. "So what then?"

"I wandered around the city looking for Illyria and getting my hands dirty for a couple of weeks. It's an absolute warzone, though. I'd just killed a particularly stubborn demon when I saw you wandering around with Andrew and that girl. I hitched a ride in the luggage hold of your plane and followed you here through the sewers."

"What other girl?" asked Xander quietly.

"Vi," Buffy said suddenly, raising her head and trying not to look too distraught. "Where is she?"

Dawn smiled grimly and shook her head. Suddenly Buffy noticed that Dawn looked a little worse for the wear; physically, she was uninjured, but she and Vi had gotten close since Sunnydale's collapse. The news that everyone was dying was never easy on her, but she'd had practice; she was dealing, for now.

"There is going to be war," Willow said quietly after a silence.

"I don't think it's quite that bad," Buffy said tiredly, rubbing her eyes. "The apocalypse demons are tough, but we can fight them, especially with all the Slayers we have on our side now. We've got a growing number of Watchers--"

"Buff," Xander said loudly but briefly in an obvious attempt to shut Buffy up. She looked up at Spike and noticed his shocked face was glowing. She turned and saw Willow with white-blonde hair, glowing of her own accord and looking rapturous. She spoke softly, but her voice was mechanical, as though someone was somehow speaking through her.

"The apocalypse demons are the servants of the Wolf, the Ram and the Hart. They have been sent both to punish those who committed the unholy slaughter, and to unleash hell on earth.

"The Old One Illyria has been converted permanently against their cause. They are not pleased, but have no control; she is an Old One and holds more power over them than they are capable of successfully fighting. The test the Wolf, the Ram and the Hart put forth has failed. They understand, however, that influence and circumstance was the problem.

"The apocalypse demons roam the lands to increase their numbers. They will meet at the Chasm at the end of the fifth year of the second millennium after Christ era.

"The Wolf, the Ram and the Hart understand that humans are powerless and that demons cannot be trusted to be either good or evil. The balancing of the scales has begun. No army can fight the Old Ones; their knowledge of the Universe extends beyond any modern knowledge of all human and demon combined. Their release into modern Earth must be prevented, or the history of the world will start over, and all life on Earth will be extinguished in the process."

Willow's hair gleamed back to the usual red; her eyes shifted from black to green, and the room darkened significantly with the absence of her glow. She collapsed a little in her chair, but was caught easily by Xander.

"Bloody hell," Buffy could hear Spike muttering behind her. "_The_ Apocalypse... the vampire with a soul will play a pivotal role in _The_ Apocalypse, oh balls, oh bloody hell..."

"Will?" Xander said as he replaced Willow upright in her chair. She looked up slowly with a sort of dreamy smile on her face.

"Hey Xand."

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah," she said. "Sleepy, but yeah."

"Holy guacamole, what was that?" Andrew asked.

"I think the Powers That Be are doing a little interfering," Buffy said quietly.

Willow looked over at the older Summers and nodded. "It sure _felt_ like divine intervention."

"Dawn, what do you--" Buffy began, but was interrupted.

"Don't talk to me for a sec," Dawn said, scribbling furiously on her pad of paper.

"Why us?" Xander asked suddenly. "If the Powers That Be need someone to prevent this apocalypse, why did they contact us?"

Buffy stared at Xander. "Who else is there?"

"Haven't we done enough fighting? Haven't we averted enough apocalypses for one lifetime?"

"They know we're qualified. We've got the single strongest rising army in the world."

"Aside from them," Andrew added unhelpfully.

"We're it, Xander. There is no one else."

"There has to be someone else. We can't be the only force in the world."

"We are. We could have used Wolfram and Hart to our advantage, but if we walked into the London branch now and said, 'Hey, we're old friends of your pal Angel, want to give us a hand in fighting evil even though you yourselves are evil?', they'd cut our heads off, and not just because we suggested mutiny. The apocalypse demons have taken out everyone else, and are doing a good job with our force, too. We're it," she repeated. "We're it."

Xander sat down and rubbed his face with his hands. "Okay, so why Willow?" he asked more desperately. "Why did the Powers choose Willow as a catalyst?"

"I show the most potential," Willow provided quietly. "This wasn't the first time this has happened. Since I've appealed to the more natural magicks... this is the second it's happened like this, but the third time I've been used as a messenger. The first was when I was here with Giles for rehab, the second when I was with Kennedy in Brazil. I knew about the Hellmouth, and I knew about Wolfram and Hart. I just seem to be their go-to girl because... I show potential."

"Potential how?" Xander asked almost pleadingly.

"To do good. To be the most powerful person in the world, and to fight on the Powers' side. I can lead this army just because I have the ability to be connected to the earth in a way no one else can."

"Willow," Xander said. "We can't fight this."

"No," she said in a low voice. "But we can prevent it."

"And we will," Buffy said.

"No, we won't," Xander said. "We can't. There is a limit. All these deaths... isn't that a sign to anyone else?"

"Xander," Buffy said, finally catching on to Xander's panicked tone. "There were a huge number of deaths in Sunnydale, too, even before the battle with the Turok-Hans. But we muddled through. We always muddle through."

Xander shook his head and closed his eyes. "There has to be a limit. We're only human."

"I'm not," Spike interjected.

"Neither am I, not completely," Buffy said. "Neither are any of the hundreds of Slayers we could have on our side."

"Well, _I'm_ only human, and apparently I'm the only one here who hasn't completely lost his mind," Xander said, suddenly determined, and stood from his chair. "I'm not going to sacrifice myself to fight the never-ending evil. There will always be more. And I'm done." Xander shook his head and tried to hide the waver in his voice. "Some battles can't be won."

"Not if you don't try," Buffy said quietly, her mind reeling.

"What's the point?" Xander asked desperately, one last time.

"To stick to what we believe," Willow said.

Xander shook his head. "I don't believe in the fight. Not anymore."

"God, Xander," Willow breathed. "What happened to you?" It wasn't an accusation; it was a plea from a best friend.

Xander's right eye gleamed with tears. "I grew up," he said simply, and walked from the room. 


	6. 2010: Another Disaster

_2010_

Yvette took her time at the coffee shop. Or, more accurately, the coffee shop took its time with her. Everyone was fascinated by the television screen in the corner of the room. Another disaster had happened somewhere. San Francisco. The Golden Gate bridge had collapsed at rush hour. Moments later, a nearby series of buildings collapsed of, seemingly, their own accord. Well, witnesses were talking about inhuman things walking all over the place and being the cause of this destruction, but they were just grieving, just like the other disaster witnesses had been when they gave amazingly detailed descriptions of the "aliens".

Seattle, thankfully, remained more or less immune. Yvette waited and watched with all the others for the ten minutes of coverage these things generally got each hour, and returned to the office. When she stepped off the elevator on the third floor, however, voices from Alex's office made her stop at her desk with the coffees.

"...how you can be here," came Alex's exasperated voice.

"It's not that hard to understand. First, I was outside. Then, I was inside. Then I came up here in the elevator and knocked on the door. You told me to come in, and I did, and that's how I'm here." The voice was female and annoyingly familiar to Yvette; she leaned closer and tried to place it.

"But you're dead."

"No, I'm not. Look. Standing in sunlight, see? And I'm nice and solid and alive-coloured. No stitches all over me, no rotting flesh... that rules out vampire, zombie, the First, and resurrection-project-gone-wrong."

Yvette frowned and leaned closer still to the open door to make sure she was hearing right.

"Then you're a hallucination. Or maybe just a really vivid dream."

"Xander, come on..."

"Don't call me that," Alex said defensively.

"Oh, right. I heard your secretary call you Alex." Yvette closed her eyes in realization; the voice belonged to the girl she'd met in the lobby.

"You saw Yvette?" Alex asked weakly. "Is she all right?"

"Of course she is. I ran into her in the lobby about fifteen minutes ago, she was going for coffee. Xan--Alex, come on, it's not like I hurt her or anything."

"How can I know that?"

The voice scoffed indignantly. "Because I wouldn't do that!"

"Not when you were alive, maybe."

"Alex, I'm not dead."

"Don't call me that either."

"What then, Exan?"

"Just... don't address me at all until I can figure out what the hell is going on."

The girl sighed. "Listen to me. We need your help at the council."

Alex's voice took on a high-pitched quality. "You mean the council that was decimated five and a half years ago?!"

"No, I mean the new council. My council."

"There is no new council!"

"If you wanted to be kept in the loop, you shouldn't have cut yourself off from the supernatural world."

"And be subjected to all that tasty headline news? 'Dawn Summers was resurrected from the dead yesterday evening by the light of the full moon and with the help of some seriously nasty black magic. In related news, a new Head of Operations has been appointed in the Watchers' Council.'"

Yvette had never heard that side of Alex before, but she understood that the girl was very used to it as she sighed in half-relief at his response. Yvette was slightly distracted from Alex, however, by the talk about zombies and black magic.

"How many times to I have to tell you that I'm not dead?" the girl asked calmly but stiffly.

"Dawn," Alex whispered. "_I watched you die_."

"I know," she said in a low voice. "And I can explain, but... this isn't the time."

"When is there going to be a better time?"

"After I tell you about the unbelievably nigh danger and you agree to help."

"No, and no. I gave that up years ago, remember?"

"Yeah, I do. And so did I, after I _almost_ died. But after a couple of years, I kept catching myself in old Occult stores looking for certain volumes of a text I never quite finished in time. Then I started going out on patrols at night when I couldn't sleep, which was pretty much every night anyway." Dawn paused. "Sound familiar?"

Alex said nothing.

"You haven't given up on fighting evil, Xand," Dawn countinued somewhat resignedly. Yvette heard a chair squeak, and she knew Dawn had sat down. "You need to do good. The corporate life is great in some respects. I agree. Some days I really like being cooped up with my books, and I know I swore I'd never say that after trying to research with Giles one afternoon when I was fourteen, but there you go. Once you know evil, you have no choice but to fight it. You can take breaks, sure, but eventually you always go back to it. Buffy did it. Angel did it. I did it. All the good guys take breaks, especially the ones who really make a difference. But Xander, your break is over. We need you in this fight." she paused. "_I_ need you in this fight."

"What if I say no?"

"Then we might lose."

"You might lose anyway."

"Damn, and I was so hoping you wouldn't realize that." There was a pause, and Alex exhaled in amusement. The tension in the room went down quite a bit. Yvette felt it and breathed a sigh of relief for them. She used the time of the silence to creep toward the door; she managed to keep mostly out of sight, but she could see Alex's face now.

"How bad?" Alex finally asked with a croaky voice.

"Bad. Maybe as bad as before. I wouldn't go so far as to say worse... I don't think the inside of the planet could stand any more destruction, so maybe I'm just _hoping_ it won't be worse, but..."

"It can't be the Old Ones again."

"It's not, but the apocalypse demons that were supposed to be inhabited by the Old Ones are back, bigger, and more determined to bring the world down. San Francisco was hit earlier today. Early estimates are two thousand dead with the latest explosions."

Alex groaned and rubbed his face with his hands. "I was so hoping that they actually were aliens."

It took Dawn's laughter to make Yvette realize that the bit about aliens actually was a joke. About the rest, however, they sounded dead serious.

"Putting together another Slayer army?" Alex asked.

"Already done."

"Are they here?"

"In L.A. doing recon. We're trying to figure out where the demons came from _this_ time."

"They're probably left over from the first wave. Holed up underground and bred."

"You think there were deserters?"

"No," Alex said slowly. "No, I think there were some who were ordered to establish a second force and wait for the opportune moment."

Dawn turned her head fleetingly toward the window, and Yvette saw she was grinning. "Xander, that never occurred to any of us. Come on. How can you not say that this is your destiny?"

Alex sighed and shifted in his seat uncomfortably. "I'm telling you what I think is going on, and then you will leave me to my business and never find me again."

Dawn likewise shifted uncomfortably. She had her back to Yvette, who wished desperately she could see the look on her face. "I know you've been through some hard times, first in Africa and then in England. I know you've made a civilian life for yourself here. I know you've moved on since Buffy, and want to stay here with your girl."

Yvette's jaw dropped in shock and hurt. No wonder he didn't return her advances.

"But Xander," Dawn continued, "there is a war. Your life used to suck, sure, and now it's pretty okay. But you used to be full of life, and now you're almost... Angel-like." Alex's face took on an insulted expression, and Yvette wondered dimly if angels were evil where these lunatics came from, or just really taciturn. "I'm here to tell you, Xand, to get the hell over it. I was there that day, too. I saw everyone die, just like you. But evil is still out there, and it still needs to be fought. If not us, who else will fight it?"

Alex slammed his fist down on his desk. "Damnit, Dawn. How can you say that after everything that happened over the years? The hundreds of demons we fought, the number of times we saved the world... we stopped The goddamn Apocalypse... but none of it matters, because evil always triumphs. One way or another, it finds a way to come back. And eventually it consumes you whole. Buffy was living proof of that. There is no way to win. You just end up committing suicide for an ever-triumphant cause." Alex's voice faltered at the end of that sentence, and when he spoke again, Yvette had to strain to hear him. "And you think it's _noble_, what you're doing. And it's not. It's just stupid, and redundant. In the end, you lose everything. Even if you succeed, you always fail."

Dawn sat, head sideways, listening. "So why do you still fight the small fights?" she asked after he was finished.

He stared. "Because you're right. I can't... not do good."

"Neither can I. But maybe I inherited my sister's need for a grand finale, because the small fights just don't feel like enough to me. Can you honestly say they feel like enough for you?"

Now Alex looked Dawn in the eye. "I like having at least one eye. I like having a heartbeat. And do you know what else I like? Sitting here and figuring out new ways to help people in a purely non-violent manner. I make people's quality of life better."

Now Dawn was smiling, Yvette was sure of it. "So tell me Xander, how much magic did you have to learn before you were able to make artificial limbs communicate with nerves so well?"

Alex's head rose very rapidly. He was very pale. "Are you extorting me?"

"Oh, God, no," Dawn said seriously. "That's not at all what I meant. I'm just making the point that the supernatural is still very prominent in your life. You're talking like it all leads back to evil, but here you have it, literally at your right hand, working to 'make people's quality of life better', as you so put it."

Alex glared. "Get out of my office," he said slowly after a long pause.

"Xan--"

"Out. Now." His voice held enough anger that Dawn, determined though she seemed to be, got to her feet.

"I'm not giving up," she said in a low voice as Alex swept past her toward the office door. Yvette hurried back beneath her desk and out of sight as he held the door open for Dawn.

"I guess that's where you and I differ." Dawn opened her mouth to argue, but closed it again seeing the expression on Alex's face.

"You can't escape this," were her last words. She stormed over to the elevator and waited impatiently for the doors to open. Alex watched her go before retreating back into the office, slamming the door hard behind him.  



End file.
